


we

by abovetheruins



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Host Shane, M/M, Sharing a Body, Symbiote Ryan, Symbiotic Relationship, Tentacles, inspired by Venom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: "Oh,Ryan." As much as there are pros to sharing his body with someone like Ryan - someone, not something; Shane refuses to see him as anything less - there are also plenty of cons, including not being able to grab Ryan by the scruff of his neck and pull him into a hug when he's being dumb and apparently questioning his place in Shane's life. "Is that why you've been so weird lately? Because you think I want space?"Don't you?Ryan's voice isn't accusatory or angry, justsad, and Shane's heart aches for having missed his distress for so long.





	we

**Author's Note:**

> saw Venom, came home and wrote 2000+ words of symbiote Shyan
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Shane waves goodbye to his coworkers, wishing them a great weekend and promising not to work too late before he calls it a night. Jen is the last to go, and she makes him promise he'll join a few of them for drinks later before she waves goodbye. He feels a twinge of... something, even as he vows to be there, and as soon as Jen's gone he leans back in his chair and says, "Okay, what's wrong?"

_Nothing's wrong_. Shane frowns as the voice echoes through his head, low and downright sullen. He sighs. 

"Ryan, c'mon," he coaxes. If he squints his eyes, he can just make out a swath of inky black in the reflection in his computer screen. "You've been quiet today. Suspiciously quiet. It's not like you."

_I can be quiet_ , Ryan sulks, and there's something there, something in his voice that Shane doesn't like.

"You can," he says lightly, "but I like it more when you're not." It had taken some getting used to, certainly, but there was a sense of comfort to be found in the running commentary Ryan would keep up throughout the day. It was a blessing when Shane was embroiled in his research; Ryan could catch things he overlooked, and he had a knack for organization that made compiling notes and outlining scripts a breeze. Shane had been complimented on his work more than once since he and Ryan had become a team. 

He'd been complimented on a lot, actually: his work ethic, his confidence, his enthusiasm. 

"You've been really happy lately," Jen had told him once, her lips curled in amusement. "It's nice to see, you know?"

He'd been asked what his secret was. A few people had even wondered if he was seeing someone. "It's my zest for life, that's all," he'd told everyone, sharing a secret smile with no one they could see. Hey, he hadn't been far off. Since he'd become less of an _I_ and more of a _we_ , he'd been more confident, more fearless, just... more, in general. Most days he felt like he could take on the world.

And things were going well. Great, even. He’s happy. 

But Ryan isn't. Or at least, he hasn't been lately. The shift had been gradual but for the past week or so Shane has noticed him withdrawing more, keeping quiet throughout most of the day, relegating himself to the back of Shane's mind. It felt like he was compressing back there, tucking himself smaller and smaller until his presence was barely a blip on Shane's radar, and Shane... Shane didn't like it, not one bit.

_Trying to give you space_ , Ryan murmurs, softly, like he doesn't want Shane to hear, but the nature of their relationship doesn't allow for secrets between them.

"Oh, _Ryan_." As much as there are pros to sharing his body with someone like Ryan - some _one_ , not some _thing_ ; Shane refuses to see him as anything less - there are also plenty of cons, including not being able to grab Ryan by the scruff of his neck and pull him into a hug when he's being dumb and apparently questioning his place in Shane's life. "Is that why you've been so weird lately? Because you think I want space?"

_Don't you?_ Ryan's voice isn't accusatory or angry, just _sad_ , and Shane's heart aches for having missed his distress for so long. _I'm always there. I can't turn our bond off but I can be quiet, hide, for a while. You can spend time with your friends. Date._

"I can do that anyway," Shane insists. He doesn’t mention that his lack of a love life lately hasn’t really bothered him; it’s not something he’s even thought to worry about. "I _like_ knowing you're there when I'm with my friends. You keep me entertained when they're being drunk and stupid. You keep _me_ from being drunk and stupid."

A soft laugh rumbles down the length of his spine and Shane smiles, even as a shiver courses through him. He loves making Ryan laugh. _I can keep you from being drunk, maybe. Stupid, though..._

"Hey now," Shane gripes, mock-offended. "You do realize that when you're insulting my intelligence you're insulting your own, too, right? I mean, _you're_ the one that picked me."

A flash of something hot sizzles through his body, followed by a rush of cold. _I know_ , Ryan returns, his voice subdued, and _oh_.

It hits Shane suddenly, a swift bolt of comprehension that makes him grimace at his own obliviousness, and he resists the urge to deliver a swift smack to his own face. Ryan would never let him, anyway. "Ryan, you didn't force me into this. I told you you could stay, remember?"

Ryan remains silent.

"I want you here," Shane presses, wanting, _needing_ Ryan to believe him. "Ryan, I want you to stay. You know it's true, c'mon, man."

_I just don't want to fuck up your life_. Ryan really is the strangest … well, _being_ that Shane has ever met. Powerful and agile and _weird_ , but in all the best ways. He talks like a goddamn frat boy, all irritatingly cocky and arrogant at times but surprisingly vulnerable at others. His energy levels are through the roof, and Shane needs to snack constantly just to keep up with them. It's not a bad trade-off by any means. He's always running hot these days and can no longer find comfort in his usual layers of clothing, but he's more eager than ever to dive into research and get shit done. Plus, he gets to eat all the popcorn he wants without worrying about gaining too much weight, since Ryan burns through those calories faster than Shane could ever hope to pack them on.

Ryan’s also surprisingly considerate for a symbiote (Shane does not think _parasite_ , because Ryan’s sensitive to that shit and the last time Shane had dropped the p-word he had clammed up and ignored Shane for hours. No thanks.) He relinquishes all control to Shane; the only time he ever takes it without permission is when Shane is in danger, like when a car skidded up onto the sidewalk and nearly ran him over, or when a couple of drunk assholes had tried to pick a fight with him. He keeps Shane safe, keeps him healthy. He makes Shane laugh, makes him snort in the middle of meetings when Ryan makes some quip about the presenter, makes him wheeze when they’re watching movies and Ryan tries to impersonate the characters, makes him smile when Shane gets bogged down by some asshole’s comment on his videos, offering to hunt them down and bite off a limb or two if it would make Shane feel better.

And now here he is, offering to make himself scarce so Shane can have some semblance of a normal life, with normal relationships and normal friends.

Shane can’t help it; he laughs.

“Ryan, buddy,” he wheezes, laughing harder at the thread of pure confusion drifting through their bond. “My life is weird. My life was _already_ weird before you even showed up, but you didn’t make it worse. You make it _better_. I _like_ you, you idiot. I want you around. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, end of story. You feel me?”

A rumble of sensation runs over Shane’s shoulders and down his back, a silky wave of pressure down to the base of his spine.

_Yeah, I feel you_ , Ryan murmurs, a hint of teasing in his voice, and Shane huffs a laugh, loud but shaky for reasons he’d rather not study too deeply right now.

“You smooth motherfucker,” he breathes, shaking his head as he catches a glimpse of a toothy smile in his computer screen. “C’mon, you dick. Let’s go paint the town red, yeah?”

Ryan sighs, though he sounds more amused than anything, all traces of solemnity banished from his voice. _After you_ , he says, and Shane laughs all the way out the door.

 

He meets Jen at the bar, surrounded by a handful of their coworkers, and it’s fun. Alcohol doesn’t really affect him anymore unless he imbibes a shit ton of it, but Shane doesn’t feel like getting sloshed anyway. Everything feels hyper focused after his conversation with Ryan; he’s happy and loose-limbed and in good spirits, high on life or some shit equally pretentious.

Ryan groans audibly as he hits the dance floor, and Shane gives his long limbs free reign to cause as much chaos as they please, just so he can relish in Ryan’s terrified awe.

_You truly have no rhythm, big guy. None. I’m impressed_. 

“Oh, like you could do any better,” Shane taunts, and though his voice is swallowed up by the music he knows that Ryan hears him loud and clear.

_Incoming_ , Ryan warns, before a rush of warmth envelops Shane’s body and his arms and legs start moving independently of his brain. He grins and settles into that strange liminal space where he and Ryan become one, feeling his body move but as if from a distance.

“Not bad, Ry,” he murmurs, moving with the beat and laughing as he feels Ryan’s smug satisfaction course through his body. If he closes his eyes he could almost believe there are other arms wrapped around him, guiding his movements, and the thought makes him flush. 

_If you want_ , Ryan begins, his voice strangely hesitant, _I can…_

Shane gasps as pressure squeezes around his middle, silky smooth against his skin, solid but not, liquid but not, like being touched by a living wave. Heat warms his face, spreading down his throat and into his chest, and he laughs shakily as the pressure ebbs and flows, over his arms, around the curves of his shoulders, down into the dip of his waist and over the swell of his stomach, all beneath his clothes and out of sight. “Fuck, Ryan,” he murmurs, and feels an answering call deep in the depths of his head.

_Home?_ Ryan asks, a hint of desperation in his voice that makes Shane’s stomach squirm pleasantly.

“Home,” he answers, and gets the fuck out of there.

 

Despite the mutual need thrumming through them both, Shane takes the scenic route home. He gives Ryan full control and just enjoys the ride, appreciating that his helmet gives him the privacy to hold a conversation without worrying about other drivers looking at him funny.

“You feel happy, bud,” he says, and it’s true. He wears Ryan’s exhilaration like a second skin as they weave in and out of cars, the wind ruffling his clothes and cooling his heated skin.

_This makes me happy_ , Ryan tells him, and then, after a pause, _Tonight made me happy_.

Tonight, on the dance floor, all of that rolling pressure against every part of him. Shane flushes. “Yeah?” he breathes, and feels more than hears Ryan’s pleased hum vibrate through him. Fuck. “That all you needed, then?” The words are an invitation, giving Ryan the opportunity to continue… well, whatever they’d started in the bar, but also giving him an out, if that’s what he needs. This, them – it’s all about compromise. After all, he’s not an _I_ anymore. He’s a _we_.

_I need… I want…_ Ryan makes a frustrated sound, and though he doesn’t mean to, Shane can’t help but grin. It’s rare that Ryan’s at a loss for words.

But then there are tendrils of that same smooth, silky texture weaving around his waist, over the dips and curves of his hips and back, and Shane chokes on a gasp. It’s only through Ryan’s will that his hands remain wrapped around his handlebars, the road passing by in a blur beneath them.

_That_ , Ryan lilts, his voice filling Shane’s head and chest and groin with heat. _That’s what I want_.

And Shane – Shane wants to give it to him, share it with him, in whatever way he can. That desire drives him straight into his apartment and onto his bed, his fingers scrabbling at his clothes, tossing his helmet and boots to the floor before attacking the buttons on his shirt. Ryan tries to help, but they’re both too clumsy, and Shane collapses onto the mattress with a shaky laugh as he lets Ryan do the rest of the work, ridding him of his shirt and jeans and boxers until he’s splayed across the bed, breathing hard and relishing in the cool air brushing over his heated skin.

“Gotta be honest with you, bud,” he breathes, closing his eyes as he sinks into the familiar hum of Ryan’s presence, the prickle of his touch along Shane’s shoulders and chest. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

_Neither do I_ , Ryan confesses, his voice a soft wisp of sound against Shane’s ear. _We can figure it out?_ Light hints of pressure, like fingertips, run down the length of Shane’s chest and back, and he shivers and arches into the teasing caress.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, voice catching on a moan as the pressure increases, smoothing over his sides. He cracks open his eyes to see sleek black tendrils easing over his belly, curling around his hips and dipping between his thighs. “Holy shit, Ry.”

A burst of happiness mingled with the low, simmering heat of arousal rushes through him at the nickname and Shane laughs, head falling back as he succumbs to Ryan’s touch, engulfed in it, his hands wrapping around fistfuls of his bedsheets as the pressure grows, the tendrils writhing against his skin, firming, forming into grasping fingers and callused palms, strong, powerful arms and a broad chest, a neck, a head topped with spiky wisps of that same inky black, and a smile, curving big and white above a rounded nose and two milky white eyes.

Shane grins. “There you are,” he sighs, listening to the bedsprings creak beneath their added weight, to the soft rasp of Ryan’s breathing.

“Here I am,” Ryan says, lips twitching, and outside the realm of Shane’s own head his voice sounds remarkably soft. “Is this… good?” Ryan’s hands smooth over his thighs and Shane nods, swallowing a whimper at the drag of Ryan’s skin against his.

“Yeah, this is good. All of it, you, me – it’s good.” He sucks in a breath at the first touch to his cock, Ryan’s fingers slipping smooth as silk along the length of his shaft. “We – we’re good.”

“We’re good,” Ryan repeats, reverent, like he’s never heard anything better, and then he’s leaning down to catch Shane’s lips in a kiss and it’s like nothing Shane’s ever felt before, the sensation familiar and yet not, new but _good_ , so fucking good, and the grip of Ryan’s fingers around his cock, forming a tight hole for him to fuck into, is even better.

Shane moans at the friction, his mouth falling open beneath Ryan’s, hands reaching up to grip his shoulders and hold on tight. God, he can feel _everything_ \- Ryan’s hands on him, Ryan’s tongue in his mouth, the clench of his own fingers sinking into sculpted shoulders. It’s like an endless feedback loop, Shane feeling what Ryan’s feeling and vice versa until he can’t even tell them apart, until his voice is Ryan’s voice, breaking on a whimper as he fucks into Ryan’s fist, until Ryan’s pleasure is his pleasure, the sight of Shane writhing beneath him doing more to fuel his lust than any intimate touch ever could.

And good lord, that’s heady, not simply knowing that Ryan’s getting off on how he looks but _feeling_ it, too. It’s hunger, pure, unadulterated, and so _deep_ , and Shane has to break their kiss just to gulp in a breath as he feels the full force of it roll over him, through him, leaving him trembling. 

“Hate to break this to you, Ry,” he rasps, his heels slipping along the bed as his thrusts become erratic, pressure building in the base of his spine, throbbing, aching. “But I’m not gonna last long if you keep this up.”

“That’s alright,” Ryan rumbles, his mouth pressed to Shane’s ear, breath rough, ragged, all because of Shane. “There’s time. _We_ have time, for more. Later.”

_We_ and _time_ and _more_ reverberate in Shane’s head, mixing with the softslick _hot_ drag of his cock through the circle of Ryan’s fingers until he’s practically insensate, relying on Ryan’s hand wrapped around his hip to guide his thrusts, sweat beading on his brow as he chases his pleasure.

Ryan’s mouth closes around the bend of his shoulder, teeth pricking at his skin, and Shane cums with a shout that borders on a sob, thighs and stomach twitching as he spills over Ryan’s fist. He can feel Ryan’s elation as he shudders through his orgasm, feel his satisfaction and hunger and affection, and he feels an answering tug in his belly as he reaches for Ryan’s face, kissing him deep and hard and hoping that it’s enough to ease all of Ryan’s worries, to convey what Shane had been trying so hard to tell him earlier.

_I want you here. I want you with me. I want you._

Judging by the soft, pleased hum rippling from Ryan’s body to his, Ryan hears him loud and clear.


End file.
